


the length and width of summer

by umbrella



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blindfolds, Explicit Consent, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, being the porn you want to see in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbrella/pseuds/umbrella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Blue’s favorite things about Gansey is the way he looks right before he goes to bed, without his glasses on or his contacts in. He looks squinty and small and vulnerable, like an upset owl; sometimes he bumps into things on his way over to her, and she likes that too.</p><p>One of Gansey’s favorite things about Blue is that she’s a little bit mean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the length and width of summer

One of Blue’s favorite things about Gansey is the way he looks right before he goes to bed, without his glasses on or his contacts in. He looks squinty and small and vulnerable, like an upset owl; sometimes he bumps into things on his way over to her, and she likes that too.

One of Gansey’s favorite things about Blue is that she’s a little bit mean.

* * *

Blue sticks her hand out and does her best take on the rich old Virginian vowels, “Your glasses please, Mr. Gansey.” She’s smiling when she says it, but it’s a sly thing, and her fingers curl imperiously to beckon him in. 

His breath hitches out in something that’s second-cousin to a laugh, which is (he knows from experience) at least half of Blue’s point. She says it to remind him that this is a game that they’re playing, and that it’s just themㄧ Blue, standing unbowed before him, Ronan maybe, curled up on the bed next to him but deeply engrossed in some handheld videogame that he’s been swearing at for the past hour. But she also says it to remind Gansey that he carries his power in his words and his charm and in his accent that’s as old as his family line, and that she’s taking it from him. That she’s going to take care of him. 

Gansey takes off his glasses. 

The sun is sliding golden and heavy into the late afternoon, and without any ocular assistance, Monmouth looks like a grainy, yellowed photo in an old newspaper seen from far too close. The halftone blur that make up Blue Sargent retreats to the far side of the room; beside him, Ronan rolls over, and the bed creaks in protest, but he doesn’t turn to look. The music stops.

“I’m putting your glasses on your desk, in front of the plant,” Blue tells him, and he nods. He turns on the bed to follow her shifting progress along the far wall, wobbly on his knees until a steadying hand braces against his shoulder. 

“Falling for me already?” So then, Ronan too. He tries out a snake grin of his own, but it feels wavery on his face without being able to answer to Ronan’s expression. He wonders if his hands are trembling, but he can’t bring them up close enough to see. 

“Gansey, come over here, please,” Blue’s voice is low, a little contemplative, and it catches him somewhere in his chest. He leans further forward, trusting Ronan’s hold, squinting to find her. She isn’t teasing anymore, and the prickling awareness sinks into Gansey’s throat, and his toes. There.

Ronan moves to stay with him as Gansey rolls to his feet, fingers tightening in support or amusement when Gansey rocks at the headrush. “Someone’s eager,” Ronan says, and sneaks a hand down to goose him.

“Aren’t you?” Gansey reaches back blindly to try and grope him in return, and Ronan evades him easily, barking out a laugh.

“Onward you go,” he says, still cackling, and pats his ass solicitously.

“Excelsior,” Gansey mutters back, and does. He watches his feet, cautiously skirting mini-Henrietta on his way over to the leather couch Blue had once so strenuously objected to; he can hear Ronan padding along behind him. He keeps his eyes lowered as he comes to a stop in front of her. Spends a moment contemplating kneeling, but he can’t decide if that would be presumptuous; also, he hasn’t looked up, and he’s only 80 percent sure that he’s in front of Blue as it is. She’s quiet, and he tries not to fidget, overtly aware of his imprecise hands, the uncertain bend of his neck.

Blue doesn’t make him wait long, says, “You’re looking a little overdressed.”

His breath catches quick, and his fingers fly up to the collar of his shirt, clumsy around each other, and Blue says, “No. Ronan, can you take care of that?”

He lets his hands down slowly, and suddenly Ronan is there, pressed close all down the line of his back, hooking his chin over Gansey’s head, surrounding him. “Not even gonna say please?” Ronan says, low, and Gansey can feel his throat work, can feel Ronan’s hands wandering proprietarily across his chest.

“Please,” he whispers, at the same time as Blue says, “Not on your life,” and then the room drops to silence.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Ronan says after a minute, and then his fingers are moving with a purpose, making short work of his collared shirt, and then lower. The sound his khakis make while unzipping is loud, louder than his panting breaths. Ronan brushes his lips across Gansey’s temple, as companionable as a fistbump, and helps him draw his clothes the rest of the way off. Blue sighs, and Gansey hasn't missed the way that Ronan’s given her an uninterrupted view of his undressing. 

“You can leave that on,” she says when Ronan’s fingers dip under the elastic of his boxer-briefs. They clench convulsively on his hips, and Gansey twitches. “That’s all,” Blue says, and she sounds like she’s smirking.

Then she says, “Come here, Gansey.” From this close, Gansey can see that she’s sprawled indolently, a wicked queen on her throne. She has one foot brushing the floor and the other stretching along the line of the couch. The bright blue of her skirt looks indecently short against the ratio of brown skin on display. Gansey wishes he could _see_ it. “On your knees,” she says, and it catches him the way it always does, the feeling of a full-body shiver, that Blue Sargent is going to take care of him; that she has never backed down in her life, and certainly not for something as tame as Gansey.

She calls and he comes, follows the arch of her leg in, running his hand carefully against the fan of her foot, the stretch of her calf, the rise of her thigh as he slides in closer. There are few places Gansey prefers to find himself than on his knees between Blue Sargent’s legs, something she knows and takes shameless advantage of. “God, you’re lovely.” Her vowels stretch out with sweet confidence, and Gansey leans in, wanting to get drunk on her approval.

Her hand lifts slowly from her thigh, like she’s trying not to startle him, and her palm settles against his cheek. He presses against it, and she runs the tip of her thumb on the fragile soft skin under his eyes, dark with lack of sleep. He opens his mouth a little at her touch, trying hard not to blink or flinch away. His breath pants against the inside of her wrist. “Oh Gansey,” she sighs, and he smiles at her, feeling it foolish and simple on his face. Every touch of hers lights him up, and he wonders about the overwhelming and reductive power she has over his focus, the way she can gather him and pull him down past his habitual control. How she can make him like it. He lets his hand slide a little further up her thigh, nudging against her skirt. Not that it’s really covering anything, sprawled the way she is, but, “No,” she says firmly, sinking her hand firmly into his hair and pulling him back. He whines, and the hand in his hair tightens with the hitch in Blue’s breath. He whines harder, but his hand retreats back to her knee. Her hand stays firmly anchored.

“Gansey,” Blue says, “pay attention. I’m going to lay out the rules of today’s game. If there’s anything about it you don’t like, this is the time to say.” He nods against the pull of his hair, letting his eyes sink to half-mast. Rulesㄧ new rules, past the ones they had all had stumbling, overly-sober conversations aboutㄧ meant that Blue had an idea for a game, and those were always dangerous.

She starts to speak again and he snaps to attention. “First: what’s the safeword?”

“Glendower,” Gansey says in an approximation of his usual voice, with about a third of normal volume. Blue hooked her leg around his back and tugs him a little closer.

“And what happens when one of us uses the safeword?”

“Everything stops.” He pauses there, and Blue nudges him with her foot, impatient. “Ah-”

“And we talk about it. Come on, Gansey, this isn’t Latin class.” Gansey tries to turn, but Blue’s hand tightens in his hair and he stops short, biting down on his shocked breath. He can hear Ronan fiddling with something behind him, but he isn’tㄧ Blue won’t let him see.

“The game is this:” Blue tugs his hair again, and he tries to gather his scattering wits. “You are going to sit in my lap, and I’m going to hold your hands behind your back, and we are going to touch you. And you are going to describe what’s happening. Do you think you can do that?”

The idea, the image hits him hard, and his voice is shaking but he manages to say, “Yes.” He’s not sure how he’s going to manage to say anything else. Blue knows that he barely speaks when he drops for her, has teased his inability to put together a sentence, the trouble he has articulating anything sexual at all. Ronan rides him relentlessly about it, has tested every shred of Gansey’s control in between classes. But they’re asking him now for this, and he tries to bite back his hesitations.

“Attaboy,” Blue says, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Here’s the catch: Ronan is going to blindfold you, and you’re going to guess who’s touching you. Can you do that for us?”

His _yes_ this time is significantly breathier, a fact which makes Ronan snort even as he sinks down behind Gansey and gently smooths the blindfold across his nose and his temples. There’s a pressure from when he knots it, but it’s careful, and none of Gansey’s hair gets caught. Gansey squeezes Blue’s knee and tries to hold himself in check.

“Is this a dream thing?” he asks, and Ronan says,

“They aren’t all dream things.”

“But is this?”

Ronan’s fingers press all the way around the blindfold, and Gansey blinks hard against the pressure as they passed over his eyes. Testing for security, Gansey guesses, and feels him tie the final knot. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Aren’t you behind me?” He asks, confused, and Blue snickers.

“I think we’re good,” she says. “Help him up, would you?”

Gansey doesn’t often have a chance to appreciate Ronan’s build, but being lifted straight into the air before he can even think about unfolding his legs will do it. “Ah--” he hedges, scrabbling for balance as Ronan steps him forward. 

“Not like that, unless you want to faceplant him into my chest.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sargent?”

“Not as much as you’d enjoy staring at his ass.” 

Ronan snorts elaborately, and catches Gansey around the shoulders, spinning him so that they press together, chest-to-chest. Gansey, who isn’t expecting this, staggers, and his arms fly out and catch on Ronan’s hips. He tilts his head up and strains uselessly against the darkness, desperate to read Ronan’s thoughts. He feels a moment’s fear lick across his exposed skinㄧ of what he looks like, flailing and useless and clutching, and Ronan must catch some of it. He curls himself over Gansey, touches their foreheads together, lets him breathe, and then says, “Down, boy.”

Gansey closes his eyes. 

Ronan walks him backwards and Blue helps him down, until he’s sprawled between her legs. She pretzels his arms behind him and closes her arms around his chest, leaving him loosely captured and spread out for Ronan. She’s got her chin hooked over his shoulder and he can feel her breasts in the hollow between his shoulder blades. Everything feels purposeful, and fraught. He feels like he’s being peeled open.

“Okay, Gansey,” Blue says, “start talking.”

He hitches a little, sideways, in her grasp, and she presses him back more firmly against her. “Um,” he says, and, “did you know pygmy pouters are the most hideous birds,” and he’s not halfway through the sentence before Blue’s hand reaches up and tweaks his nipple, hard.

“Gansey,” she warns.

Ronan snorts. “That’s hardly a punishment, Maggot.”

Blue’s hand doesn’t move back down, just continues to thumb over the newly-peaked flesh. “It’s not a punishment, it’s a reminder,” she says finally, “but you can have the next one, if you like.” She pinches him again, although not as hard as the first time. “That won’t take very long if he doesn’t chime in.”

“You’reㄧ touching me,” Gansey says. Ronan laughs.

Blue sighs. “If you really don’t want to do this, we can stop and do something else.”

“No, I-,” Gansey squirms again, sliding halfway off of the couch before Blue’s arms lock tight around him, and Ronan grabs him by the knees and helps shove him back up. He stays where they put him, but he can hear the whine in his voice when he says, “it’sㄧ it’s embarㄧ this is not in my usual realm of expertise.”

He’s surprised Ronanㄧ or, hell, Blueㄧ lets that pass without a comment, but as the seconds tick by he realizes they’re still waiting for him. Oh. He sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut against the blindfold and the slow blush he can feel staining his cheeks and the back of his neck. “Jane, you’ve got my hands pinned. Do I not get toㄧ” he wiggles again, and Ronan hits him.

“oh fuck.” he says, and drops bonelessly into Blue’s helpful restraints. She _oofs_ quietly but doesn’t say anything else. He imagines he can feel the sting of each spread finger prickling across his cheek, flushing him involuntarily.

“Ronan hit me.” Gansey says then, after a long breath. Everything’s quieter now. “Blue caught me.”

“How was that?” Ronan asks. Gansey starts to answer, but just takes another deep breath. He maybe whines a little.

Blue says, “Stop smirking, Ronan.” 

Ronan laughs at her. Gansey feels small, the way they’re talking around him, but also a little bit like it doesn’t matter. His cheek stings, and his shoulders feel tight the way Blue has them pulled together, but the rest of his governing senses seem to be dropping away like so much ballast.

Blue’s hand moves away from where it was still stroking idly at his chest, just light enough to tease, and runs up on fingernails to his jaw, which she grabs and tilts toward her. “God,” she whispers admiringly. “Do you know how good you look with Ronan’s marks on you? We’ve got you.” Her hand tightens on his jaw, and then drops down to gently circle his throat. “We’ve got you.” 

Gansey lets out a long breath, and rolls his head back against Blue’s shoulder. He can feel his pulse fluttering underneath her fingertips. “Yes Blue,” he says softly.

“Do you want Ronan to hit you again?”

Gansey considers this. “Notㄧ not my face. It’s too much, with the blindfold.”

“Somewhere else, or with a warning? Or not at all.”

He tries to think about it, but keeps getting caught in the moment. “Somewhereㄧ else?” He offers.

“Here?” Ronan asks, a sudden presence against his right shoulder. Gansey nods. Ronan’s hand lifts and then comes down gently right over his heart, fingers splayed against his pecs. Gansey nods again.

Ronan’s hand slides down his stomach, following the line of hair from his bellybutton and and taking a moment to snap the hem of his underwear before settling on Gansey’s upper thighs. If the weight shift didn’t clue him in, Blue’s sigh in his ear would have let him know that Ronan was now kneeling in between his legs. Ronan presses gently, and Gansey lets his legs spread, clenching his fists. There’s a thumb tracing circles all along his inner thigh. It would almost be soothing, except.

“Here?” Ronan asks again. 

“Yes,” Gansey cracks out, and he’s not surprised at the sudden blush of pain against the thin skin, but he can’t help the noise that escapes him. Goddamnit. “Ronan hit me,” he says again, the repetition making it easier. “I liked it. Ronan is a tease, and that’s awful.”

“Good job, Gansey,” Blue says. He stretches toward the warmth in her voice. “But we’re just getting started.”

 _They’re thorough_ , he thinks muzzily, an uncounted time later. There’s bright sparks of feeling all along his chest and legs from Ronan’s mouth, his teeth, and his hands, and they all awaken every time Ronan presses up against the length of him, every time Blue presses two fingers into a bruise like a misdirected kiss. “Bite him here,” she’ll say, and Ronan’s mouth will follow, and Gansey will yell and thrash. “Hold him,” Ronan’ll growl, and then rake his nails down Gansey’s side, sharp stinging lines. “Not yet,” they both say to him, when his hips jerk forward hopefully. His shoulders are getting stiff, but he never wants Blue to let him out of her grip. 

He hears a muffled bang that is the sound of Monmouth’s never-truly-locked front door, and feet on the stairs. There’s a pause, and he can feel Blue and Ronan’s attention shift palpably away from him. It’s not a good feeling. He has a sudden sense-image of himself, laid out against Blue like a sacrifice, flushed from Ronan’s hands and Blue’s merciless orders, trailing bite marks down his chest, drooling around Ronan’s fingers.

He bites downs vengefully. 

Ronan swears, and his hand clamps down bruising-hard against Gansey’s jaw, his thumb digging into the soft skin under the hinge of his jaw and pries his mouth open. “What the hell, Gansey,” he says, voice rumbling with irritation but softer than Gansey had expected, “Jealous already?”

“You know that we’re going to take care of you,” Blue says, and Ronan shoves two more fingers into his wide-open mouth. 

Gansey tries to apologize but he can’t, tries to close his mouth and suck on Ronan’s fingers, but Ronan keeps his thumb pressed into the hinge of his jaw, holding him open. “No,” he says, like you might say to a disobedient dog, and Gansey whines for him, stuffed full and pinned between them. Ronan’s fingers press in hard, trace around the outside of his teeth, go under his tongue, and finally lean against the back of his throat for a long moment until he gags.

“Good boy,” Ronan says, and Gansey chokes on that too, as Ronan slides his fingers out and wipes the slime off on Gansey’s cheek, down his throat, before withdrawing altogether.

Blue gives him a moment to breathe before she asks, “Well?”

“Iㄧ bit Ronan. Heㄧ this isn’t much of a guessing game, Blue.”

She hmmms, and says, “Well, I guess I could actually tie you up, if you wanted the challenge. But you can’t even tell me what just happened.”

“No,” he mumbles, and tries to slide down so he’s smaller, til he can tuck his head under Blue’s chin. “You weren’t paying attention to me,” he accuses her shoulder, “so I bit Ronan. Then he, um, and now there’s spit on my face.”

“Well, I’m paying attention now,” she says, and her hand is squeezing his thigh. “What do you want, Gansey?” she says, and her hand slides further up.

He chokes. He’s been trying not to think about his cock, since Ronan and Blue seemed content to ignore the tent of his underwear, even when it had to be right in Ronan’s face. It twitches eagerly, and Blue’s hand stops just short, rubbing along the sensitive vee of his hipbone. “Please,” he whines, “please touch me, Blue.”

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” Blue asks, and her hand doesn’t move any more, so it’s not an idle question. There’s not a right answer to this question, not after biting Ronan.

“Please,” he begs.

He can hear her cat-sharp smile when she says, “I agree, I don’t think you have either,” and she runs a single finger up the outside of his briefs, root to tip. Gansey thinks about crying, and a single hiccuping breath escapes him when she takes an extra second to fondle the head. “You’re pretty wet,” she says, conversationally. “I wonder how much wetter we can get you.” She takes her hand away, and Gansey curls up a little tighter.

Blue rests her palm around his shoulder, pushes her thumb into the long tendon of his neck, and he groans at the easy pleasure. She lets him relax a moment, and then says, “Legs back down. Stretch out. We’re not done.” She pauses, “Unless? What’s your safeword, Gansey?”

“Glendower,” he mumbles, and stretches out his legs.

“Do you want to use it?”

“No,” he sighs.

“Good,” she says, and then, “go ahead.”

There’s a cool hand in his hair, suddenly, scratching gently at his scalp.

“Noah?” he says, surprised. Blue nudges him, and he continues, “Noah’s playing with my hair.” Noah is gentle and feels solid against him, and the temperature feels good against his sweaty hair. He has to work to hold in a laugh, and he leans into the touch. “Hi Noah,” he says softly.

“Hi,” Noah whispers back. The couch dips down, and Gansey rolls with it until he’s pressed, skin-to-skin. Noah nuzzles into his shoulder, and says quietly, just to Gansey, “It’s okay to need this. It’s not just a game for them either. Do you like having them serve you?”

Gansey blushes hotly, and says, “That’s notㄧ” even as the truth of it pulses through him. “I don’tㄧ where’s Ronan?”

He feels a hand in his hair, forcing his head over the backrest of the couch. _Oh._ “Hi Ronan,” he says, and a mouth comes down on his, sideways and hot and claiming, even as he can hear Ronan from somewhere in front of him, “Hi Gansey.”

Oh.

It’s Adam’s mouth on his, he thinks, Adam’s misty-scented hands cradling his jaw and still holding his hair taut, Adam’s tongue in his mouth giving him a brief release from croaking out the means of his own destruction. Adam kisses like he talks when he forgets to check himself-- slow, and drenched in heat and honey, a conversation of the sort that Gansey is no longer capable of carrying on. He’s just hanging there, gasping, held up by Noah’s cold hands teasing across his chest, his abs, making him flinch and pant, by Ronan’s freshly insinuated presence between his legs, hot breath suggestive and burning against the sticky and ever-widening patch of wetness on his strained underwear, keeping his thighs apart and _open_ to all of them, and Blue, Blue, anchored behind him, whose fingertips have been digging bruises into his shoulders for ages, her gaze potent and her breath shuddering, her pulse like a thunder lighting up every inch of skin that she’s demanded he display.

Adam pulls away, eventually, from his slack mouth, but Gansey feels his long fingers, the ones that aren’t still twisted against his scalp, trace carefully under the blindfold. The trails his fingers leave are cold and wet. “God, Gansey,” he murmurs, reverential, “are you crying?”

Gansey tries to say something, shakes his head, feeling useless with it, and Blue says, hungry against his ear, “tell me, Gansey.” He opens his mouth a few times, but all he can hear is this low keening, and his chest aches, and if Ronan gets any closer to his dick he thinks he’ll die. He thinks he’s going to shake out of his skin.

“Gansey,” Blue says again, pinching his ear, and he falls back against her and sobs, loud and shocking. “Blue,” he says, “Blue, Blue,”

“Okay,” she soothes, “okay,” and it’s Noah’s cool hand against his forehead like he’s soothing a fever. Ronan’s tapping a beat off-time on his leg, grounding him. He takes another breath.

“Adam,” he starts, but his voice collapses halfway through his name, and it’s both an answer and a plea. 

There’s a long pause where Gansey floats between his question and their answer. It doesn’t seem pressing, so he sinks back into the hot awareness of all of the skin pressed against his, the hot flushed jolts of feeling because they marked him, and then Blue says, “Do you want to drive?”

“If you want me to,” comes Adam’s slow, slow Henrietta reply. Gansey can feel Ronan shudder between his knees. “Scoot over a little, Gansey,” Adam says, still punctuating his orders via Gansey’s hair. He can feel fresh pricks of tears in his eyes, and it feels weird not to be bound in Blue’s arms, although she flexes her leg out to stay pressed behind him. He tries to stretch out his arms, but she’s still watching him, and snaps, “Nope. Keep ‘em crossed, Gansey.” 

Adam snorts, and she says, “It’s still my show.”

“It will be now,” he says, and then, “Okay Ronan, will you finish undressing Gansey.” It doesn’t actually sound like a request.

“Whatever you say,” Ronan says, sticky-sarcastic. Noah is a cool support on Gansey’s side, and Ronan takes his time sliding the briefs down, letting the fabric drag obscenely against his straining cock. 

“Thank you, Ronan,” Adam says, not sarcastic at all, and Gansey feels Ronan shudder again. Gansey tries to stroke his side with his foot sympathetically, but he’s not sure how well it comes across.

“Better save your sympathy for yourself,” Noah whispers to him, “you’re about to get it.”

“Are you ready?”

Gansey doesn’t know who he’s talking to, so he just nods. 

“All right. Now, Ronan.”

Gansey isn’t ready. Ronan doesn’t make him wait, barely gives a cursory lick to the head before pushing down as far as he could go, and it’s too much, the heat and the _sound_ , when Ronan picks up and echoes his own groan. He’s gone, he’s _gone_ , they’ve worked him over for what feels like hours and every wisp and lost edge of pleasure has curled up into something present and demanding.

Ronan pulls off and Gansey can barely recognize the demanding whine as his own. Adam shakes him lightly in reproof.

“Noah,” Adam muses, after he’s sure he has Gansey’s attention, “can you tell me when he’s close?”

“Yes.”

“Will you do that, please?”

Noah’s smirk is audible. “Yeah.”

There’s another unspoken signal and Ronan is back, sloppy and eager and perfect, and Gansey jerks against all of the hands on him. Hands are digging bruises into his hips, his chest, his own hands digging welts into his forearms. The darkness presses in, and he wants it, he wants everything, he wants to never stop feeling, he wants desperately to _come_.

“Now,” Noah says, and Ronan pulls off obediently. Adam bites hard at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, where Gansey knows he has a spectacular love-bite coming up from Ronan, and he sobs.

“What are you feeling?” Blue asks, her breath shaky, and a corner of Gansey’s brain still capable of processing outside stimuli notices that even though Ronan has quit sucking him, the obscene wet noises haven’t ceased.

Gansey just hangs, panting, breath rough. “Undone,” Noah says.

Blue swears.

“Okay,” Adam says, and Ronan’s mouth is back, and everything is pain-pleasure-pain but suddenly it clicks and he gasps and swears and Ronan pulls off but just for a second, just to catch his breath, but he can’t even be mad because, “Blue, are you getting off right now?”

“Yes, Gansey, I believe that is at least one point of the exercise.” She sounds like she’s mocking him, but he can still hear her fingers, and that’sㄧ that’s going to drive him crazy.

“Now,” Noah says, and it’s the third time, and he’s so _close_ , he shouts through his teeth and clenches his hands tight around each other, desperate to reach out, to finish himself. “ _Please_ ,” he begs, a single note stretched out and warped uselessly.

“What do you _need_ , Gansey.” Adam asks, hand dragging his head back so they would be eye-to-eye, and Gansey screams in frustration, tears leaking relentlessly now, from the hair-pulling or the frantic edging or the darker emotional core.

“That’s the idea,” he says, breath puffing out across Gansey’s face. “Good boy.” And he sticks his fingers into Gansey’s mouth. “Suck,” he says, and then, “yes, you too, Ronan.” Gansey closes his mouth and sucks hard in gratitude.

“Do you want any help?” Adam says, and that’s confusing. That’sㄧ

“All right. Yeah,” Blue says, ever so slowly. 

Adam says, “Keep it slow, Ronan. Ganseyㄧ not until Blue says you can.”

Then it’s all hot and slow and not enough, and a rising tide of swears as Blue’s knee presses harder against his back. She keeps a running commentary as Noah bites at Gansey’s ear and Ronan takes him slowly, hot and wet. “Jesus Christ, Adam, I didn’t fucking ask for this, Jesus Christ, fuck fuck, no, I can’t just _look at Gansey_ , I _have been looking at him_ , look at _our boys_ , oh my god.” 

Noah tells Ronan to pull off again, and Gansey is just crying, panting open-mouthed. Every part of his skin feels bright, with bruising stars of sensitivity where he’s been bitten, pinched, marked. He wants to die, or he wants to come, whichever happens first, he feels like a meteor and he has to flare out. He thinks he might just get off to Blue’s porn dialogue, whether or not Ronan touches him any more.

Then she wails, loud and unconcerned, and Gansey thinks, or maybe says, _oh please oh please please_ , and Blue takes two hot sharp breaths before her leg relaxes and stops pushing him down Ronan’s throat.

“Are you that loud at home?” Ronan rasps.

“Shut up,” Blue says, and “wait, will youㄧ”

Adam says, “Yeah, yes,” and Gansey feels the now-familiar tug at his scalp. 

“Open your mouth,” Blue says, “and you can come when you’re ready.”

Gansey opens his mouth, desperate again, and closes down around Adam’s fingers, soaked with Blue, and he moans low and long as he takes it all in. 

“Fuck,” she says again, but Gansey is lost. Ronan is as desperate as Gansey is to get off, he thinks, and his enthusiasm, Adam’s fingers in his mouth and the taste of Blue, and Noah’s hands, and Blue’s encouraging moans, and it’s the end. Gansey doubles over with the force of it, and Ronan swallows him down.

It’s Ronan then, who pushes his unresisting body back into the couch and crawls into his lap, kissing him hard and sniffling a little. Both of their mouths taste like come, and it doesn’t matter.

“Gansey,” Blue says, and Ronan growls a little, “you can have your arms back.” They ache, a little, and he flings them out wide in a stretch, patting Blue and Noah roughly, before wrapping his hands around Ronan’s hips and turning up his face for some thorough kissing.

“Do you want me toㄧ” Gansey murmurs against Ronan’s mouth, and then brings a hand down to cup him meaningfully through his jeans. Ronan still has his shirt on, which strikes Gansey as ludicrous.

“No,” Adam and Blue say simultaneously. 

Ronan leans in and smiles against his mouth, so that he can feel every sharp edge. “Next time,” Ronan whispers, “you can go down on me for half an hour.” He lets his fingers push the blindfold flush against Gansey’s eyes, and Gansey shivers against the unpleasant dampness. He inclines Gansey’s head and starts picking at the knot. “It’s a dream thing,” he says. His voice is hoarse. The sound of it makes Gansey wants to growl, makes him want to mark Ronan as thoroughly as he has been marked. “Something new every night,” Ronan finishes, and the blindfold slithers off like cold silk.

Monmouth is lit up in the soft golden glow of late afternoon, and Ronan looms above him, mouth in a hard slash. He’s lovely. Gansey sinks his teeth into his shoulder, savoring Ronan’s hiss.

“Ronan,” Adam snaps his fingers, and Ronan jerks to attention in Gansey’s lap before he can fake nonchalance. He tries to slouch back down against Gansey, but he’s been thoroughly made. Gansey still doesn’t have his glasses on, but Adam’s grin carries straight through his words, “Why don’t you come on over here and you can get what you’ve earned?”

Ronan leans further into Gansey, who tries to muffle his laughter. “I go to church every Sunday, Parrish, and I’d rather not get what I have earned.”

“Then come get what I’ll give you.”

Instead of answering, Ronan presses another long, showy kiss on Gansey and then slides slowly sideways, sinuous and smooth, into Adam’s waiting gaze.

Blue taps Gansey’s side with her foot, and he stops staring at Ronan’s ass and looks over at the reclining line of her. She makes an exaggerated come-hither motion, and he crawls over, collapsing familiarly against her side. Her skirt is rucked up to her waist, and he tucks a leg between hers. He can feel the heat coming off of her still. He wraps his arms tight around her, and she pets him gently, encouraging his recline. Behind him, he can hear Ronan start to swear.

Blue’s hand stills on his shoulder. He flexes beneath her, and she smooths her thumb against him in a quick conciliatory move.

“Do you want to watch?” she asks him, and doesn’t bother to pitch her voice quiet. Gansey can hear Adam’s approving groan as their sounds get faster. Gansey curls up further against Blue, trying to wrap himself smaller than her five foot frame without pushing her off of the couch.

“No,” he huffs, and even he can hear the sulk in his voice. Her attention swings from a balance to a laser focus as she rolls into him, throwing a leg over top of him, shrinking the space around him so that she is all that he can see. The petting returns, long, gentling strokes from the nape of his neck and as far down as she can reach. He settles under her regard.

“You were very good, Gansey,” she says at last, her breath ruffling the downy hairs near his ear. She has to lean in to be heard over the sound of Adam’s descriptively filthy mouth. He spares a thought to what Adam would have looked and sounded like, blindfolded, with only his incendiary words, and then abruptly shies away. “Very good,” she repeats, a little stronger. “You looked so good, letting us touch you, trusting us like that.

"Did you have fun?” 

“I thought the game was over,” Gansey says, and clears his throat. 

“It is,” Blue says. “Now tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Good,” Gansey says, and then contemplates his answer. He can feel Blue resisting the urge to prompt him further, and he lets himself drift for a minute under her hand. “Good,” he says again, “and tired, and,” _worshipped_ , his mind, or Noah, prompts. _Venerated_. “good,” he finishes, rather lamely.

“Good,” Blue says, and it’s possible she’s making fun of him. “I liked seeing you like that,” she says, and it’s a visceral thrill to hear her say it again while they’re curled up like this, like it’s a secret.

She continues to pet him as they listen to Adam and Ronan finish each other, with Noah’s encouraging whispers, Blue shifting her hips fractionally until Gansey moves his thigh a little, letting it press against her core, and she rocks against it gratefully. “You were good too,” Gansey says, letting his voice darken with his desire for her and for them.

“Yeah?” she pants.

His thigh is getting wet, and he wants to kiss her so much that he feels dizzy with it, like he could drop straight back into that shameless wordless space for the want of her. “Yeah,” he says.

“Good,” she says, and he reaches down to help her off again, and she says a lot more.

“Greedy,” Ronan says, when the two of them uncurl, and Blue’s hand flopping off the side of the couch nearly hits him in the face. Ronan doesn’t like to be touched directly after a scene, preferring to ground himself in his own body and no one else’s. Which means that it’s Noah and Adam sitting on the other end of the couch, waiting politely for an invitation. Gansey pokes Blue, and they unfurl, reaching up to pull Adam into the pile. Noah jumps onto the back of the sofa and drops a hand onto Blue’s shoulder, the one Gansey has an arm around, and he finds himself with a lapful of Adam. Eventually, Ronan’s head presses back against Gansey’s hip, and it feels like a circuit is complete.

He wants to say something to them, while he has them all connected, but everything feels embarrassingly sincere, too raw and too grateful. He waits, lets the AC chill the sweat off of his body, and then cuddling in closer when he gets cold. He moves to pet Ronan’s head and finds Adam already there, scratching gently at the growing fuzz. Ronan grabs his hand and laces their fingers together.

“That was,” Gansey says eventually, the silence cracking down on him. “Thank you.”

Ronan rolls his head back to look at him. “What, are you out of words forever now?”

“If only,” Blue says, and then ruffles his hair.

“You too,” Adam says, and they all get quiet again, possibly because Gansey isn’t the only one who can hear _I love you_ in Adam’s words. It’s what Gansey meant, anyway.

* * *

“First shower,” Blue says, after another period of silence.

“No way in hell, Maggot,” Ronan says.

“Yes way.”

“I’ll make it there first,” Ronan says. “I don’t have all these people on top of me.”

Blue mutters something unkind and nestles back against Gansey’s ribs, quits jabbing her foot into Adam’s calves. She gives him five minutes. “You have to _take_ first shower if you want it, Ronan. I’m very sticky.” 

“Still no way. You didn’t let Adam come all over you.”

“I think I’ve got some on me anyway,” she says, and wiggles the leg that Adam is lying on top of. 

“I think we all do,” Noah says mournfully.

“That’s what happens when you get in the middle, Noah. Fluids.”

“You’re disgusting,” Adam says mildly, and Ronan just grins up at him, looking all kinds of sated. 

Gansey starts to shake with soundless laughter. Blue struggles out of Gansey and Adam’s embraces, and Gansey clings for a moment, instinctive. She ducks out from under it, but smiles and brushes her thumb beside the corner of his mouth like a promise. “At least _share_ ,” she says, and finally gets her feet on the ground. 

Ronan’s up and moving the moment she’s upright, and Blue groans and flops back down. Adam mutters something unkind.

Ronan opens the door, and stares at her. “Well,” he asks.

“Oh!” she says, and then, pushing herself off the couch, “I’ll wash your back.”

“You can’t even reach my back,” he says fondly, and they disappear into the bathroom/laundry/kitchen.

Adam looks up, and Gansey reaches down to tug him up into Blue’s spot. Noah had disappeared with Blue.

“It’s hard not to kiss her,” Adam says, and Gansey nods. It’s as simple as anything to lean into Adam then, lips meeting carefully, gentled. Gansey’s heart swoops, and Adam pulls back, pressing a sweet line of kisses across his jaw before leaning back in. Gansey’s fingers clutch against his shoulders, and it feels like Adam’s lovely big hands have swept aside all of the composure he’d rebuilt in their quiet togetherness.

“I never thought I’d get to have all of you,” Gansey says, pulling out of the kiss, and Adam nods this time. It is a series of moments that seem impossible, but then, Gansey has always been good at finding impossible things.

They trade kisses lazily until Ronan and Blue tumble out of the bathroom. Ronan is gloriously naked, and Blue waits until she is in front of them before unwrapping herself and offering the towel. “There’s only the one,” she says.

“Are you saying I need a shower,” Adam asks, trying to sound offended.

“Yes,” Blue says.

“Badly,” Ronan says.

“I ordered pizza,” Noah reappears and says, “but one of you has to get the door.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks ever-so-much to [lolapandi](http://lolapandi.tumblr.com) who valiantly pulled beta duty and recommended ways to make Gansey into a hotter mess, and [genderhexe](http://genderhexe.tumblr.com) who said it was good enough to post.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as [halfdeadfriedrice](http://halfdeadfriedrice.tumblr.com), frequently emotionally compromised by the raven gang and willing always to yell about it.
> 
> *Gansey's safeword is "Glendower" less because it's something he wouldn't say during sex and more because he is not allowed to talk about Glendower during sex. It's a promise and a preventative measure.


End file.
